


Dracula's Revenge

by DeathDirt



Category: overwatch
Genre: Dracula!Gabriel, Gen, Halloween Terror 'What Ifs', I was kinda upset there was no new brawl esp with all the new skins we got so, Junkenstein AU, Tags to be added, To Become Shippy, oni!genji, this happened, witch!mercy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathDirt/pseuds/DeathDirt
Summary: Aldersbrunn is safe. Junkenstein has been defeated. The four wanderers have done their duty.The Witch of the Wilds, however, is not so easy to dispatch.To the east, a count lives in solitude. He has prayed for his own death too many times to count. Every human who has meant something to him has gone but for one lone servant boy. He is hurt, suffering. The poor man is broken in his own sanctuary. For years, he has endured the stabbing ache of loss, if only out of futile hope of his loved ones' return.A perfect candidate for the Witch's next bargain.





	Dracula's Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> WELP
> 
> No 20YITD today, so let's have an AU instead! Like tags say, I was disappointed that there were all these cool skins (specifically Jiangshi Mei, Dracula Reaper, Dragon Sym, and Cultist Zen) and no new story to go with it, so I made up my own. Unbeta'd, so sorry if it ends up awkward n stuff and if there's lots of mistakes
> 
> Tags will be added as chapters are, be prepared for the feels train. Not yet though, because THE TRAIN IS LATE!

The Witch sneered as the last of Junkenstein's zomnics were finished off by the battle-weary heroes. She'd laughed at their horror-struck expressions when they witnessed her powers of resurrection, how they all seemed near tears at the return of the monsters they'd put to death earlier in the night. And yet they had somehow won through. They dispatched Junkenstein, his Monster, and the Reaper, one by one, until she was the sole one left. They eliminated her as well - or so they thought. A proper witch would never leave her dwelling without a safeguard for her life. The Witch's was a particular skull in her home, a werewolf pup's. Her soul had been embedded in it, so although she had in essence died, the archer's dragons did not seem to sense that she had persevered.

Now in her home within an abandoned castle keep, only a short flight from Aldersbrunn, the Witch watched through her all-seeing eye, seething with cold rage at the failure of Junkenstein and his monster, as well as the loss of her most powerful servant, the Reaper. The four wanderers had finished off the last zomnic, and now sat among the sparking carcasses, heaving with ragged breaths as they each attempted to do their own part in healing their comrades. The gunslinger, in particular, was suffering from deep wounds caused by the monster's deadly hook and burns along his left arm where his metal hand was scorched from batting away Junkenstein's bombs. A foolish thing to do perhaps, the Witch mused, but it had been effective enough in protecting the alchemist and the archer.

The Witch turned from her hung talisman to pace around her lair. "Dr. Junkenstein has failed me," she announced to the empty halls, "Despite giving his creation the gift of life, despite even lending my own powers and that of my servant's... In spite of all that, Jamison J. Junkenstein failed to take Aldersbrunn from four worthless, nameless wretches. What a waste," she lamented. The spell caster hummed as she pulled one of her many books from its shelf and began to leaf through it. 

Her prized Creature Compendium. All manner of creature, spirit, and monster contained in its pages, along with any and all information about them. The Witch flipped from page to page until one caught her eye. A vampire. There weren't many left in the world, that she knew, but there had been rumors of a count in the east. Rumors that he'd lost all that he owned. That he'd lost his family, his name. Everything.

The Witch smirked at the thought, clapping the Compendium shut. She reached for her Seeing Eye and held it at eye level. The bright green gem glowed, then went dark. The darkness swirled within the smooth surface of the gemstone until it coalesced into a singular image. One man sat at a long table, clearly meant for dozens of people rather than one, solemnly picking at a cut of meat without ever bringing it to his mouth. He wore extravagant clothes, but they seemed worn, or perhaps just unclean. At any rate, they weren't in the best of shape. His face was sallow, dark bags under his eyes unusually visible upon his paled skin, and his scarred cheeks seemed more prominent than they should be. As if all that wasn't evidence enough of his pain, his dark eyes seemed to provide a window to a senseless void.

The Witch chuckled. What a lovely specimen.

\-----

Dracula. A name that was feared by so many, given such respect for decades, centuries even. 

Yet now it was nothing but dirt to be stepped on. 

The count himself sat in the massive library, cleaned down to the very inch, any knowledge the man wanted at his fingertips, and still feeling as if he was in horrible isolation. If he'd had the strength, he would've moaned his melancholy to the dark. Alas, it was not so. Instead, dear Dracula sat in silence, watching the slight sway of the cobweb a lone spider was building in a far corner of the ceiling. That spider had as much purpose to its life as the dear count. 

He pushed a gloved palm into his eye socket, lowly groaning. There were so many things needed to be done. At least three families had sent correspondences about something or other. One was about attending a party for a duke's son, another was a wedding of a few friends, and then there was something about a lord of a city a few hundred leagues west requesting financial assistance for reparations of some kind and... All at once it seemed like too much. It really wasn't, in reality it was remarkably little, but perhaps that was why it hurt all the more. Nobody noticed that he wasn't hosting a grand party or ball every other week. Nobody noticed that he no longer went out to buy everything from the local merchants with far more than they actually asked for. Nobody noticed that he didn't go to the tailor he'd attended for decades. Nobody noticed that he only ever left his home to wander the woods outside. 

Absolutely nobody.

The count sighs as his head falls forward. All these years of being the local rich family, and in a single moment, he's become nothing but an old hermit. All the room, all the space, and nobody to share it with. Even the servants have begun leaving, one by one. They assumed they were discreet. But when almost a dozen servants have mysteriously gone missing in a single night, it's difficult not to notice. The only one left was a soft-spoken boy from the East who refused to leave.

He came in with a tiny tray of tea, kneeling as he always did to serve it to the master. "Take it, Genji," Dracula weakly resists as he pushes he proffered cup away. "I'd rather not." The young man tilted his head to the side, unsure of how to proceed. Was it the tea? Did it not look good? Impulsively, Genji glanced in the cup, to which the count sighed, shaking his head almost fondly. "It's no fault of your own," he mumbled. The boy was too critical of himself, as always. "I just don't feel up for it right now. If you don't mind keeping it for dinner when it comes time, I'd be grateful." Genji got to his feet, bowed, then collected the pot and small cup and made his way out.

Gabriel was always very thankful for the boy. When he first found him, more a corpse than anything else on a ship from the East while the count was on a short trip to the coast, he'd taken pity, almost felt bad for not simply killing him where he'd lain. Now, he was an attentive servant, and helpful in Dracula's darkest moments. Not only did he know exactly how the count liked his tea - something that not even his oldest servant had gotten right - Genji knew how to fight, if only with a blade, and he was much more knowledgable in culinary art than he often let on. If any of his fleeing servants were to remain, Dracula was quite glad that it was Genji. 

With a heavy sigh, Gabriel turned to his desk to absently pick through the letters he'd been sent. The wedding was from the Lacroix's. They were good people, Amélie and Gérard, one a rather famous dancer and the other a brilliant gunman, but Gabriel found that they could be a bit too perceptive at times. Amelie especially, with her sharpshooting coming to use in social cases. So perhaps not that. Maybe he could just have a grand arrival anyway. No previous notice, simply walk in, talk for a while, then go out just the same. Take Genji along, of course, but otherwise come as he was. "What an idea," Gabriel chuckled to himself. 

And yet he did. The wedding was happening the next day, and Dracula showed up, as he had planned, unannounced. "Gabriel? Gabriel!" Amélie embraced him almost as soon as he walked in. Gérard was there as well with a similar greeting as well as a hearty clap on his shoulder. "It is good to see you, my friend! How long has it been? I can't recall the last I saw of you. And who's this?" Turning to Genji, Gérard looked at him critically. "I didn't know you were hunting for another swain, Gabriel..." He slyly commented. Gabriel swatted at the other man while Amélie guffawed her laughter. "He's one of my servants. I brought him." _So I won't be alone_ danced on the tip of his tongue, but Dracula was able to leave it at that. No need to loudly proclaim his woes for a whole wedding to hear, right?

"All the better, _mon amie_ , all the better! We don't mind the extra company, right _cherie_?" Amélie batted lightly at her husband's dancing fingers as he attempted to coax her into a kiss. "You will have me to yourself later, _Monsieur_ Lacroix. However, for the time being, I am still _Madame_ Guillard, and will remain so until the end of the ceremony. Yes?" Gérard slumped in defeat, still smiling, and nodded. He turned back to Gabriel, a bit flustered since he finally remembered why he didn't see his old friend as much as he used to, but the count was gone. Gérard exhaled deeply, eyes searching the crowd for Dracula though unable to pick him out. "Is something the matter?" The man shook his head. There was no need to discuss such morbid things on his wedding night. "Nothing, darling. I think that's your father's chariot riding up there!"

\-----

Although the party was nice, Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to really enjoy it. Partially because of how many people looked at Genji in disgust. Sure he was a servant, but the best that Gabriel could say he'd ever known! On top of that, it was hard for the reclusive Dracula to say he enjoyed monstrous public gatherings anyway. Yes, once upon a time he had parties just like anyone else, but it was always with close friends or folk from the nearby village, people he knew. Not massive things like this were everyone within thirty leagues was encouraged to show up, friends or not. This was for Gérard and Amélie though. They were good friends, good enough that Dracula didn't mind coming out of his self-imposed isolation for their wedding. Everything else... Not so worth it. 

Gabriel sat heavily in the greeting room, Genji just at his side. The fireplace crackled with life while the rest of the party moved into the dining hall. The count sighed, staring almost mournfully into the flames licking at stone. How long has it been? How many years has he deprived himself of human society because of _that_ night? Five? Six? "Eight, sir," Genji tentatively whispered back, and Dracula realized with a soft sigh that he'd started doing it again - talking to himself without realizing it. And then, he feels on the verge of tears - _tears_ , damn him! - at the thought of the time it's taken to fall from his high stature. Of course it was never public, never grandiose; it simply wasn't necessary for the two Dracula's. Gabriel had been happy with just the two of them, the occasional visit from a friend like Amélie or Gérard, and the weekly parties where their relationship could be passed off as tenancy. It was almost... Dare he say it? Almost _fun_ to play the game of deception with all of those people. 

Until, of course... He'd been caught red-handed. Dracula bitterly chuckled at the expression. Red-handed didn't come close. Red-faced, red-armed, red-chested, red-bellied...red-handed. The blood was everywhere. 

Dracula leaned forward to hunch over his own deep pangs of guilt. His elbows came to rest on his knees and his head rest in his hands, softly shaking with some kind of ugly sob. "Cruel earth," he mutters, then waves for Genji to leave. The boy is reluctant yet does as he's told. No need to incur the count's wrath when he was already in shambles after all. "What have I done to deserve this?" He accuses the unseen heavens. "I've always done what I can to help those less fortunate, haven't I? I've always paid respect where it was due! Why... Why did you take them from me?! You cruel, heartless-!" Gabriel stood all at once, in arms and tears with this one-sided argument when something popped in the fireplace. It made the man start, glancing back to see if something had gotten in it. There was nothing close enough to it to burn. Morbidly curious, Gabriel stepped forward, closer to the fire, only to be blown back by the raging blaze that erupted. The flames crackled with violent sparks of green and violet. 

At first, it seemed the flames might swallow him whole. They refrained, however, from doing so - how nice. For a moment, the blaze raged higher, higher, higher, until finally it disappeared entirely. Gabriel blinked a few times at the oddity, then looked over to the door. Smoke flooded from the doorway, and heat radiated out from its depths. At once, in a very unwise action, Dracula scrambled for the dining hall. He flung the door open.

It was an utter cataclysm.

The long table was flipped, legs splintered, loose fabrics were in flames, people were trying to jump out of the windows, some already engulfed in fire. Gabriel tried to pinpoint where Amélie or Gérard were in the crowd, but gave up after only a second. He darted through the crowd, searching now for Genji. The newlyweds were well-versed enough in warfare and chaos that they'd probably be the ones to get out if anyone. 

Gabriel ran into room after room, each time searching the dark corners and overturned tables shouting for the boy. He was nigh in panic. Rushing into another room, patrons tried to pull the count the other way, but he held fast against the flood of panicked human beings. Gabriel ducked beneath the heavy smoke, trying to find some relief from the burning in his lungs. Creaking above his head. Dracula's head shot up, and he made for the door, yet -

Resounding crashes above his head and suddenly he couldn't move. Fire exploded through his torso, reaching to every extremity. The pain made him entirely silent, though he still tried calling for anyone who would come. As expected, nobody did. Plenty of people running for the front door passed, none giving him more than a glance. The raging inferno around him made the air thick with stifling heat. The great Dracula let his head fall to the floor. This was his end, then. Consumed by heartless flames, alone and pitiable. Heels clicked off to his right. Dracula didn't look. His own fear-riddled mind would make excuses for him not to give up. Just as stubborn as his body was to survive, Dracula would not respond to its little nuances. Not one. No matter how close the heels came, or how soft the voice was, or how-

"Gabriel Dracula." He was going to die anyway. The count looked up, though it was a pain to do so with a heavy wood beam over his back. "You seem to require some assistance." As if to punctuate, another crash of splintering wood echoed throughout the building. "I'm happy to die, thank you," he growled, trying futilely to push himself back into the wreckage pinning him down. The woman laughed, and Gabriel noticed how...unaffected she was. She wasn't coughing from the smoke although she stood straight up. There were no burns on her skin or clothes. Everything about her was fine, as if it was a sunny day outside, as if it was... "Witch," Dracula growled again, now compulsively retreating from the unnatural woman before him.

The Witch of the Wilds laughed at the once-great count as he floundered in an attempt to escape. "Perhaps you misunderstand," she said, waving her hand at the wreckage. "I can give you your life. And perhaps, if that is not satisfactory, that of your pet." Pet? Gabriel had a whole aviary of birds at home. None here. Unless she meant... "Leave the boy out of this," he threatened, teeth bared for her to see. The With laughed at him - _laughed_ \- like he was a silly child. His blood boiled, and it was nothing to do with the engulfing flames.

"You don't seem to even know who your servant boy is," the Witch teased. The crashing was coming closer, but that was partially her fault. Supernatural attracts supernatural after all. The demon boy was bound to lose control amid all the chaos of a burning building. And his presence felt familiar. Very familiar. Ah, yes, right. The archer. Family, perhaps? All the better. 

The Witch extended her hand down in offering, which Dracula glared at. "I will give you a choice, Gabriel Dracula," the Witch loudly proclaimed, only just able to be heard over the roaring blaze. "You may die, as you are, a pitiable man killed by happenstance, nothing to your name but the tales of a recluse. Or. You pledge fealty to me, and I will give you the means to make the name Dracula mean something once again. What say you?" The smoke clogged his nostrils, made his eyes burn, muddled his mind. Or maybe it was the witch doing all that. It almost wouldn't matter. Who would be daft enough to accept a bargain from a hag like this?

Apparently Gabriel Dracula. Because as he fell into a coughing fit from the smoke, lungs straining to reach oxygen, he nodded, weakly grasping the Witch's hand in agreement. The platinum blonde ponytail shook as the building shuddered again, partially from the fire's damage and partially from the oni's fearful raging in the next room. "Hanc animam hominis. Et reddam ut et vita in manu mea!" Gabriel felt his whole body seize as the final word left the Witch's lips. The monster, the _bitch_! Never should've trusted a dirty- !

The count heaved, nearly biting his tongue off to contain the massive screech of pain bubbling to the surface. His body felt too cold and too hot all at once. Fire and ice shooting through his veins, Dracula roared over the flames, and a bright red ball slowly drifted from his mouth. The man's eyes went dark and blank, head falling to the floor as the wall burst open, dark red oni eyes swinging back and forth in panic. The Witch took the soul into her hand, lightly stroking it as though it was a pet. In a single motion, she crushed it in her palm, then let the remains drift back to its owner. He would know his name, his purpose, would have all his memories. But Dracula would be reborn. Undead. Unfeeling.

Vampire.


End file.
